


A Thin Wall

by elliotaldersmol



Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Elliot spins in a chair like a child, M/M, Masturbation, Smut, Teasing, Tyrell and Elliot are gay for each other, When is Tyrell not angry, dirty is on the last 2 chapters btw, i'm sorrryy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-02
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-17 21:49:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5886589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliotaldersmol/pseuds/elliotaldersmol
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elliot has to go back to Dulles to deal with another emergency, and Tyrell is in on the party. They end up in a hotel with adjoining rooms and Elliot decides to pleasure himself. But does he know that the walls are thin?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Elliot swirled around in his chair, waiting for his boss to show up. Gideon had been talking to his own boss, Terry Colby, for a while now, and Elliot was getting bored. His gray eyes flickered up to the ceiling, wondering what could be so important to make the CTO of this horrid company come in a rush at AllSafe, hissing orders and basically resulting in utter chaos in Gideon's person.

Elliot was working calmly at his cubicle, his headphones pressed against his ears, when Gideon broke the silent promise he'd made to Elliot: he knowingly tapped on the tech's shoulder and after Elliot jumped in his seat and raised a both questioning and irritated look at his boss, Gideon nearly pulled him inside of his office, giving him a distressed look.

Now, he was spinning on this uncomfortable white chair, staring at a brown stain in the corner of the ceiling. His gaze lowered to the rest of the cubicles that he could see through the glass windows, and a small huff escaped his throat. Everything seemed calm, unaltered by the incoming disaster Elliot knew was looming over their heads. Gideon had been vague about what was happening, but he guessed, if his boss needed him again, that it was about another attack. This one seemed pretty bad. Someone must have sneaked through a breach and Elliot wasn't sure how he felt about that. He wanted to see this company crumble and fall to its demise in the pits of hell, but Gideon didn't deserve it. None of these workers did, even dumbass Ollie.

Elliot watched Colby talking to Gideon, the poor man looked like he was about to melt into a puddle of tears, when he caught a glimpse in the corner of his eye of someone striding past the desks, going straight into his bosses' direction. Elliot straightened in his chair, feeling his muscles tense and an uneasiness settling in his chest.

Tyrell Wellick. Elliot stared at him as he strolled up to Colby and Gideon, noticing the elegant swagger in his walk and the way his unwrinkled designer suit fit and followed each of his calculated movements. Tyrell, or should he say Mr. Wellick, shook the hands of both men and a faint, forced smile ran across his pink lips. He didn't want to be here, didn't he.

Welcome to the club, Elliot scoffed to himself as he gave his chair another spin before stopping to look at the men once again. They seemed concerned. Last time they had a DDoS attack, Angela called and Gideon gave him a free ride in a private jet. How sweet, Elliot had thought bitterly on the moment, though he did like the adrenaline pump this night gave him.

He spun around again, careless of his sudden childish behavior because he thought he was safe from praying eyes. The high of the morphine helped take the edge off, too. Unfortunately for him, as he completed his umpteenth whirl, his eyes locked on icy blue ones, and his feet instantly touched the floor and stopped the chair from turning any farther.

Tyrell Wellick was here, leaning against the door frame of Gideon's office, his unnaturally blue eyes boring holes into him. Elliot felt the blood rush to his face as a wave of shame washed over him at the idea of being seen doing such things. If the situation hadn't been so serious, Elliot was sure that Tyrell would have laughed, the same way he laughed when he offered him a job and got turned down.

Well isn't this awkward, Elliot said to himself, or to whoever was lingering in his head at this precise moment. He slowly peeled himself off of the chair, standing up but looking down. Anywhere else but at Tyrell. Mr. Wellick. Whatever the hell he wanted to be called these days.

Tyrell raised his eyebrows at the sight of a flustered, red in the face Elliot, a hint of amusement showing in his eyes, but Elliot couldn't see it. He was too busy staring at the man's black polished shoes, noticing one tiny dirt stain on the side of his left one, above the sole.

“You're going to have to come back to Dulles with us,” Tyrell said softly, which surprised Elliot a little.

“Another rootkit?” Elliot asked as he raised his look to meet the executive's, surprise clearly showing in his big gray eyes.

“No. We'll explain to you on the way, we don't have time right now,” Tyrell retorted with a wave of his hand to dismiss any further question. He gestured Elliot to follow him and turned on his heels, leaving in the direction of the glass doors leading to the elevators.

Elliot glanced at the cubicles as he followed Tyrell, noticing that Terry Colby and Gideon had already left.

“Why are you coming? You weren't there last time,” Elliot questioned once more and jogged to get at his side, watching as the man sighed deeply and pressed the down button of the elevator.

“Colby won't be able to be there all the time, so I'll be the one supervising you,” Tyrell replied in a jaded tone as the sleek stainless steel doors opened and they both walked into the elevator. He pressed another button and ran a careful and precise hand in his combed hair. “It might take some time.”

Elliot stared at him in silence, feeling the uneasiness settle back in him now that he was standing close to the man inside of this closeted space. He might even have been loosing his breath.

 

* * *

 

It was nearly three in the morning, and the emergency had been taken care of. The attack was merely as bad as the previous one, but Elliot didn't see why it got so much more attention this time. He didn't get why Tyrell had to come along either. He guessed it was because of the loss they'd suffered last time, what, thirteen millions per hour? It probably made them more paranoid, and now Elliot had to suffer through not only Gideon but Tyrell Wellick.

He spent the time fixing this shitfest of a company with Tyrell's looming presence over his shoulder, and the sound of Gideon's soles pressing against the floor as he anxiously paced around the room, embedded in his brain.

Sometimes, Elliot looked up from his screen to see a disheveled Tyrell picking up the phone and yelling instructions through the handset, before slamming it on the receiver and letting out disgruntled noises. Tyrell had taken his neat suit jacket off a while ago, and had rolled his sleeves up to his elbows, a rebel blond strand of hair falling from his forehead. Elliot didn't like that he noticed these things, but he couldn't help it. His eyes apparently loved to wander over the spiteful man.

Elliot was still sitting on the floor, his laptop on his thighs, and glanced at the hour. 2:58 AM. Nice. He wasn't feeling sleepy anyway, he was still high from the rush of adrenaline these types of things provoked in him. He was… Excited. Alive would be stretching it, but it was something among those lines. When he raised his eyes from his computer screen, he noticed Gideon asleep in a chair in a corner of the room, and Tyrell standing in front of a desk, a phone stuck between his cheek and shoulder.

“Why don't you just cut the bullshit and give it to me straight, Paul,” Tyrell blurted out as his hand reached for his face to pinch the bridge of his nose and close his eyes in exasperation. He'd been angry at his employees all night, his voice raising like a storm that would take everything in its path, but he had strangely stayed calm around Elliot tonight. He'd been surprisingly nice and his usual charming self, clashing with the raging demon he turned into anytime any of his employees came to him with a billionth bad news.

“Fucking hell,” Tyrell muttered, running a hand on his face, before violently smashing the phone down on the receiver, making Elliot jump and Gideon get out of his slumber.

Gideon took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes, yawning sleepily, before standing up and stretching his arms. “Let's go get some rest at the hotel, now. We'll come back tomorrow,” he mumbled, still in a haze, before glancing at both Tyrell and Elliot. “Are you guys just going to stand there or are you coming? The company's paying.”

Elliot had already slid his laptop back inside of its case and had straightened up, his gaze flickering between his boss and the Vice President for a moment, before nodding slightly.

“Y-Yeah, let's go,” he stuttered, still feeling the adrenaline pump through his veins as he watched Tyrell slip his jacket on.

 

* * *

 

The ride was nice, calm, quite short. It didn't help soothing Elliot's excitement, he still felt high and powerful and painfully close to alive. He kind of resembled Tyrell in this way, the way he'd so desperately cling at any glimmer of power he'd have over something or someone, for once in his life. Only his power came solely from typing away on a keyboard, white letters flowing on a black background, and withered away after a little while because unlike Tyrell's, his grasp and power were usually digital. Not tonight, though. He'd saved the company again, and he felt great.

 

The three men walked up to the reception desk, a posh looking woman side eying Elliot mercilessly at the sight of his hoodie and worn out black Converse shoes. She gave them three keys, Gideon having been assigned a room on the first floor while both Tyrell and Elliot's rooms were on the third one.

They parted from Gideon and, as they were walking to get to their bedrooms, Elliot glanced at Tyrell's key number and his. 312B and 313B. Oh shit, shit, _shit_ , Elliot almost screamed to himself as they approached the two doors, right next to each other.

Tyrell seemed to be amused by this, while Elliot was a flustered and stuttering mess, struggling to fit the key inside the keyhole.

“Have a good night, Elliot.” Tyrell hummed softly before closing the door behind him, leaving Elliot gripping at his key. The morphine was wearing off. He needed to take the edge off again. Elliot shook his head and entered his bedroom, kicking the door behind him with his foot.

 

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! I might do more of these idk


	2. Chapter 2

Shit.

 

Elliot rummaged through his backpack, worry spreading over his face. He couldn't have forgotten about his Suboxone, right? He needed a hit, something to soothe his racing thoughts and heartbeat. He threw the bag on the floor, next to the bed, and fell down on the mattress with a sigh.

Maybe this was for the best. He was sometimes a little unpredictable while high, and this wasn't something Elliot particularly wanted with Wellick in the next room. The man wouldn't creep inside during his sleep, right? Elliot shook his head and chuckled at his own ridiculousness.

But the feeling of rush and boldness still wasn't leaving him. He needed to tame it, go back to his usual numb self. He used morphine for this, but he'd left it at home, and it was probably better that way.

Elliot kicked his shoes off and peeled himself from his jeans, plopping down on the bed once again, his head resting against the squashy cushions. He stared at the ceiling, wondering what he was going to do all night. He was restless, and he could always feel when sleep wouldn't be taking him. It was okay, though. Elliot preferred to stay awake and do something productive rather than suffer through a slumber tormented by nightmares of his childhood.

Elliot heard a soft thump on the other side of the wall he was leaning against, and he wondered what Tyrell was doing. He figured their bedheads shared the same wall, and he felt the nagging feeling of closeness tug at his stomach, almost as if he wanted to press himself closer to his bedhead.

Don't be like this, Elliot instructed to himself and shook his head. It was just his withdrawal slowly kicking in, playing with his emotions, nothing more. He needed a distraction, though. The high he felt from earlier was wearing off and as much as he wanted it gone before, Elliot found himself craving it. No, he had to become numb again. The anxious, depressed man that he was had to come back because that's what he was when he didn't have drugs running in his blood or filling his lungs. That's what he was when he was high too, but at least he didn't care nearly as much.

What was Tyrell doing? Was he already sleeping? Elliot propped himself up on his elbows and listened intently, trying to make out anything happening in the executive's bedroom. Nothing. Elliot's gray eyes flickered to the clock on the nightstand and he sighed. He really didn't want to think about Wellick, but the man was always hovering somewhere in the corner of his head, closing his iron fist on his thoughts and clouding his mind. Tyrell Wellick was a puzzle, an equation his mind couldn't solve and it was bugging him. Elliot figured he was better off thinking about Tyrell rather than his own problems, and stopped fighting his mind from drifting to him.

Maybe it was the way Tyrell looked in the office when he breathed heavily, trying to swallow back his anger, his blond hair messy and shirt crumpled, but Elliot felt a warmness spread further down his stomach. Maybe it was just the mix of whatever remaining drug running in him combined with the kick of adrenaline that made him this way. Horny, that's the word. It was something Elliot had been quite often lately, and he didn't want to think of it being correlated with Tyrell's presence in AllSafe's offices these last few days. He'd just hang, or talk to Gideon, “supervising” Elliot had guessed. Why Tyrell never supervised before he introduced himself to Elliot and suddenly became more present after that shake of hands he'd given him was a question Elliot didn't want an answer to.

Like an itch that needed to be scratched, Elliot reached down to his boxers, his fingers slipping under the gray fabric. He started to stroke himself gently, figuring that the sooner he did this, the sooner it'd be over. He might even be going to sleep after this.

When Elliot masturbated, which wasn't that often actually, it was quick and messy, he didn't really care about pleasuring himself. It was usually in front of some lame porn or alone the dark. He didn't seek pleasure.

He kept stroking lightly, growing hard under his hand. Elliot pushed his boxers down enough to expose his dick and wrapped his fingers around the shaft, jerking his head back over the pillows and closing his eyes. He saw Tyrell in his crumpled shirt, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows again, and he wondered how it'd feel like to rip it off of him and grit his teeth against his skin. Elliot thought about what these slim fingers of his could do, how they'd work wonders on him and make him squirm.

Elliot let out a strangled moan as he ran a feather like finger along his cock, rubbing the head. Shit, he was actually getting off on thinking about a greedy corporate robot. He never let his mind wander to him during these times but the pent up frustration in him had to come out at some point. Elliot stroked up and down faster, his toes curling on the white sheets.

 

***

 

Tyrell couldn't find sleep somehow, even though the day had been exhausting. Maybe it was the way a condemned door on the right of his nightstand seemed to call for him, or the way he could hear Elliot moving around in his bedroom from time to time. Tyrell turned his head towards the door again, which used to lead to Elliot's bedroom in this hotel's old days, he guessed.

He was surprised at first at how thin the walls were so that he could hear Elliot throw something on the ground and the squeaking of the bed as he fell on it, but it wasn't to displease him. He liked to take a peek of Elliot's day, or night for that matter, which was why he came to AllSafe more often, slipping in meetings and pretending to have something to check up on. These doe eyes were just too intriguing.

Tyrell leaned back against his wooden headboard, his eyes falling on the screen of his phone when a peculiar sound made his thumbs freeze over the device.

A muffled, almost pained moan. Tyrell raised his head and scanned the room with his bright blue eyes sparked with curiosity. Another one. This one was more like a little cry, a plea even. Tyrell's eyes widened as he threw his phone aside and stood up on the mattress, pressing his ear against the wall.

Tyrell couldn't even believe it. Elliot was wanking a few inches away from him. Did he even know the walls were so thin? Did he care? Tyrell could hear the bed squeak as the weight on the mattress shifted, and he listened intently, his breathing becoming ragged and his dick aching at the thought of a squirmy masturbating Elliot.

Tyrell wondered if he'd even been turned on quicker in his life before. His little Elliot being dirty was what he dreamed about. A stuttering breath left through his parted lips as he fought the want to join him. Tyrell's gaze flickered from the wall to the door, and he had to grip at the headboard to keep himself in place. He'd only freak Elliot out if he popped inside of his bedroom at a random hour of the night, especially while he was jerking off. But all he wanted was to burst inside and see him, feel him, watch as his beautiful face would turn red from pleasure.

Tyrell palmed himself over his boxers, closing his eyes. He slowly rubbed at his erection through the fabric and could feel his dick swell even more under his touch. This was madness.

 

***

 

Elliot was ashamed of his behavior, really, but the jolts of pleasure his jerks provoked in him were too good for his morals. Laid out in his bed, legs spread apart and a free hand roaming on his stomach and pinching at his nipples, Elliot really was having the time of his life. He couldn't remember the last time he had sex without being totally high or drunk, or spent as much time on pleasuring himself like this. But damn did it feel good.

Elliot whined again, teasing the tip of the head before going back to his steady movements, stroking from the base of the shaft and going up and down, shivering with the thought of Tyrell Wellick's fingers on him.

His breathing hitched and his pace fastened, he could feel it building in his stomach and he couldn't help the string of obscenities slipping out of his lips.

 

***

 

Tyrell wouldn't give into Elliot's twisted little game. He had to know he'd hear him, right? The Vice President ran a hand over his throbbing penis once again, and inhaled deeply. This tech was going to drive him insane.

“ _Fuck, fuck, fu-_ ” he heard, followed by a cry Tyrell could tell was being muffled by something. A pillow, a fist, maybe. He closed his eyes, mindlessly reaching inside of his underwear and feeling that he was already starting to leak.

 

***

 

Elliot was close. He was so close, and he wondered why he became so sensitive and turned on now, probably because of the dangerousness of the game he was playing.

Pleasure was taking over him and his mind was running empty.

“T-Tyrell,” Elliot gasped out, his eyes squeezed shut and a blissful smile running across his parted lips.

Between his staggered breathing and occasional whines, Elliot made out one sound which made his blood turn cold.

A groan. It sounded so close, and, feeling a wave of shame washing over him, Elliot stopped running his fingers along his leaking cock and listened, his chest raising and falling like a dying bird.

“ _Fucking hell,_ ” Elliot managed to make out from Tyrell even though it sounded a bit muffled by the wall.

Elliot heard a door slam in the hallway and, a few seconds later, a knock on his own door made him jump.

 

Shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Frustrating ending masking the utter disaster I am at smut, hope you liked it nonetheless!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tyrell and Elliot fuck.  
> Basically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: i'm gonna make a one-shot!  
> me, pulling my hair out: it's a fucking multi chaptered story again! aay!  
> i'm sorry, i drank too much coffee. anyway, you'll go to hell and so will i so enjoy peeps

Elliot felt his blood run cold as he listened to the banging on his door, frozen on his bed. Fuck, how was he supposed to get out of this? That’s what he got for playing such a dangerous game, how could he think for one second that Tyrell wouldn’t hear him?

Three loud bangs made him jump again, and he straightened on the mattress, his gray eyes nervously scanning the room in search of an escape.

"Elliot, open the fucking door," Tyrell’s voice sounded angry, his accent sharper than ever. "I heard you, I heard everything."

Elliot swallowed the lump in his throat and looked down at himself. His cock was slowly going limp again, even though the premise of letting the executive in was turning him on, the shame and fear he felt were simply overtaking him. He didn’t like to be touched, he didn’t like sex when he was sober. His eyes fell on his black backpack on the floor. Shit, he needed a hit. Tyrell wouldn’t leave. He couldn’t do this sober. Maybe he didn’t search right and his drugs were indeed in his bag all along?

Elliot tucked his erection back into his boxer and slowly stood up, feeling his heart pound hard against his chest and his head spin. He slowly made his way to his backpack, but a voice echoing from the hallway froze him on the spot. He was really going to have to open the door, didn’t he? Did he want to? Of course he wanted to, he’d just masturbated at the thought, and he could still feel the frustration of not climaxing shaking him. The question wasn’t if he wanted or needed it but rather if he could do it. Tyrell always scared the shit out of him, really, and Elliot wasn’t sure if he was more aroused or fearful in that precise moment.

"I’ll kick this fucking door down, Elliot. I don’t care!" Tyrell hissed once again from the hallway and Elliot wondered why he used his name so much. He liked the way it rolled off his tongue, though.

Breaking the door open and fucking him right there on the bedroom floor for everyone to see was something Elliot was sure Tyrell would do. A tinge of arousal worked its way down his stomach at the thought, and Elliot shuddered, suddenly aware of his bare chest and the fresh breeze hitting him. Elliot slowly wobbled to the door, his knees shaking and a pleasant mixture of fear and desire twisting his stomach.

A moment of silence passed, during which Elliot wondered if Tyrell had given up, but he could still hear some sort of shuffling on the other side of the door. Elliot approached his shaky hand to the golden knob and wrapped his fingers around it, biting down on his bottom lip as he turned it and swung the door open.

 

Elliot released the breath he didn’t know he was holding when his eyes met Wellick’s icy blue ones, boring holes into him. Elliot swallowed a lump in his throat and his mouth gaped open to say something, but he stayed hopelessly speechless in front of the executive in a loose t-shirt and boxers. He noted the significant budge in them and could feel his mouth water at the thought of pulling them down. Elliot jumped slightly when Tyrell walked in and closed the door, his eyes still fixed on him. He looked so calm and composed compared to Elliot’s flushed face and staggered breathing that it only made Elliot jumpier.

Tyrell walked past Elliot, finally breaking eye contact, only to throw a bottle of lube and a condom on the bed before turning around. Elliot could already feel a thin layer of sweat cover his heated skin and he tried to speak once again, but only a pathetic and miserable whimper came out of his throat. Tyrell’s lips tugged into a devious smile as he swiftly closed the distance between them and stopped only a few inches from him, forcing Elliot to look up to maintain eye contact. Tyrell’s burning hands came to rest at the sides of his face and Elliot jumped again, making Tyrell smile wider.

"You want this. Don’t you?" Tyrell asked as his traits became serious again and ran a soothing thumb over his pulse point.

Elliot stared back at him, his doe eyes opened wide as he nodded slightly, ignoring the alarms going off in his mind. Tyrell then slowly bent down and placed a soft kiss on Elliot’s lips before knitting his slim fingers in his hair as if Elliot was a scared animal threatening to run away at any time. Elliot felt his heart pound against his chest as he opened his mouth to let Tyrell’s tongue slip inside, the kiss becoming deeper, needier with each second. Tyrell wrapped an arm around Elliot and walked him backwards until his back hit the closed door, parting only to catch their breath.

Tyrell planted kisses along Elliot’s jaw and moved down to where his neck and shoulder met, sucking and nipping before running his tongue over the reddened skin. Elliot closed his eyes and squirmed when he felt Tyrell pushing his knee between his thighs. Tyrell kept kissing down his neck and collarbone while leaving chilling caresses on his body, and Elliot could feel his arousal come back full force. He could feel Tyrell’s erection pressed against his stomach and became desperate for friction, rocking his hips back and forth and evicting a groan from Tyrell.

Tyrell’s hands grasped at his hips, his fingers dipping into his skin to try to steady his movements. Elliot was burning, feeling the frustration of being interrupted earlier by the throbs in his penis. A moan forcefully escaped his throat when Tyrell cupped him and he sensed Tyrell’s lips curve against his skin. Elliot reached for the hem of Tyrell’s t-shirt and pushed him away just long enough to swing it over his head. Tyrell was devouring him with his eyes, his now bare chest raising and falling more ecstatically than before. Elliot looked down on the executive’s black boxer, the budge in them significantly bigger now.

 

Tyrell grabbed Elliot by the waist and pulled, making Elliot crash against his chest as their lips locked once again. Tyrell spun them around and pushed them to the bed, the back of Elliot’s knees hitting the mattress, before Tyrell reluctantly pulled away and laid Elliot down on it.

Elliot shimmied out of his boxers and Tyrell stood in front of the bed for a moment, looking down at the hacker with an expression torn between desire and adoration. God, Elliot was even prettier when he offered himself like that, just for him. Tyrell spread Elliot’s legs apart and bent down to peck Elliot on the jaw as he mindlessly settled between his legs. Elliot swallowed back a moan when he felt the weight of Tyrell’s length press against his thigh, and reached a hand in his combed hair to press him closer.

Tyrell was sucking at the skin of his neck with such dedication that Elliot was fairly certain he’d have to wear a turtleneck for the next few days, but he welcomed these bruises. They were a mark of ownership and in that precise moment, Elliot wanted to belong to Tyrell in most ways possible. He couldn’t quite remember the last time he’d had sex sober, was he always this sensitive? Drugs made him numb and he wasn’t sure if it was the withdrawal kicking in or simply his natural state that caused him to feel everything in such a raw manner.

Elliot was snapped out of his thoughts by Tyrell kissing him roughly, needfully, sucking and scraping his teeth across his bottom lip. Tyrell started rocking slowly against him and Elliot pulled him even closer, becoming desperate for contact, his skin burning and aching to be touched by the man. Their pace in rocking fastened, Tyrell groaning and giving small thrusts through the fabric of his boxers and Elliot gripping at his back. Elliot lifted his legs to wrap them around his hips but Tyrell stopped his movements and held him down, pulling away to kneel on the edge of the mattress. Elliot whined at the sudden loss and Tyrell licked his lips, marveling at the sight.

Tyrell pulled his underwear down, exposing his dick and Elliot faltered when he saw it. It was way bigger than anything he’d ever dared to put down there, and Tyrell must have felt Elliot’s sudden uneasiness because he reached up to place a reassuring kiss on his lips once again. Then, Tyrell wandered on his neck and collarbone before leaving a trail of kisses down his chest and stopped at Elliot’s cock stretched on his stomach. He kissed the tip of it and felt Elliot shudder under his touch, before reaching for the bottle of lube and opening it with his thumb, his head still between Elliot’s thighs. Tyrell spread the cool liquid on his fingers and placed a gentle kiss on his inner thigh, before placing a reassuring hand on Elliot’s stomach.

"I can see you’ve already started working yourself up for me," Tyrell purred as his lips found Elliot’s thighs again. "I heard it too." he added in a chuckle and watched Elliot turn into a deeper shade of red.

Elliot arched his back slightly when Tyrell entered one finger, and after a little while he added a second one, thrusting slowly inside of him. Elliot moaned, a bolt of pleasure running up his spine to his head. He adjusted to them rather quickly, because he might have never been with a man but he’d done this to himself before, when he was in the safety of his home. Tyrell scissored his fingers and added a third one, reaching for that one spot that made Elliot clutch hard at the sheets.

"M-Mr. Wellick, here." Elliot breathed out without thinking. It still seemed weird to call the Vice President by his first name when he was in his presence, even in this situation.

Tyrell cocked an eyebrow and looked up at him. "I like when you call me that, Elliot." he hummed as he teased Elliot’s prostate and watched with delight as Elliot would bite down hard at his lips to keep himself from moaning, rather unsuccessfully.

 

Tyrell finally pulled his slick fingers out, making Elliot whimper at the loss. He wanted to feel full again, so he stared at Tyrell cracking the wrapper open and sliding the condom on his length with a certain impatience.

Tyrell leaned down on him and Elliot took his dick in his hand to guide it to his hole but Tyrell stopped him.

"What do we say?" Tyrell asked, his eyes boring holes into Elliot who couldn’t hold out any longer.

Elliot swallowed hard, understanding that he wasn’t the one in charge here. When has he ever been?

"Please, fuck me," he whimpered and saw Tyrell’s lips tug into a predatory smile. "Please."

Tyrell thrust into Elliot, a bit too eagerly at first, making Elliot wince and cry out in surprise, but it was a pleasurable pain. Tyrell stopped dead in his tracks and placed an apologetic kiss on Elliot’s lips, moving down to his jaw and neck once again. He stayed still, but it was taking him every ounce of self control he had, which wasn’t very much, not to pounce into Elliot. He’d been attracted to the man for way too long in his terms, nobody usually resisted to him for that long. He wanted Elliot and his heavy breathing and throbbing dick seemed to prove it.

Elliot rocked his hips and moaned, urging Tyrell to move. Tyrell gave shallow thrusts at first, a tinge of worry that he’d hurt Elliot sticking at the back of his mind, but he went deeper when he felt the back of Elliot’s heels pressing against his lower back.

They rocked steadily against each other, their lips locking and teeth clashing, the sound of skin slapping against skin, moans and staggered breathing being the only thing echoing in the room. Elliot reached for Tyrell’s face and pulled him closer as he felt the building sensation in the pit of his stomach. His dick rubbed against Tyrell’s stomach as he fucked him senseless, evicting a strangled moan from the friction.

 

The pace fastened and the kisses became sloppier as they were both running out of breath, Tyrell dragging his parted lips across Elliot’s, who stopped trying to hold back his whines. Tyrell could feel his arms tiring slightly but he kept going, resting his head in the crook of Elliot’s neck and marking him a little more. Elliot had one hand fisting Tyrell’s hair and the other was leaving red and pleasurable scratches on his back.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Elliot gasped out, his breath hitching and his eyes rolling at the back of his head at a particularly hard thrust. "Tyre- Mr. Wellick, please, please, here."

Tyrell’s lips curved against his skin when he heard his words. He was so fucking adorable. Tyrell looked down at Elliot’s cock which was leaking against his stomach and reached for it, giving a few gentle strokes and rubbing the head. Tyrell felt the urge to come build up in him and stroked up and down faster, groaning at Elliot’s nails digging in his flesh.

"Please," Elliot begged, the strings of words were flying out of his mouth before he could even comprehend them. "Fuck!" he said with a stuttering breath coming out of his lips at a thrust hitting his prostate.

Before Elliot could understand it, after another harsh stroke, he came all over his stomach and Tyrell’s hand, crying out his name and blabbing out some unintelligible curses. Tyrell gave another deep thrust and soon after, he came inside Elliot while biting down on his neck.

 

They stayed on top of each other, panting heavily and sticking from sweat, for a little while before Tyrell pulled out and rolled to the side. He fell on the mattress with a loud thump and turned his head to look at Elliot who was staring at the ceiling, his chest raising and falling ecstatically.

After a moment of silence, Elliot looked down to Tyrell and met his blue eyes which seemed oddly warmer now. Almost as if he looked at him with tenderness. Elliot frowned, but Tyrell spoke up.

"What do we say now?"

Elliot’s eyes widened in horror as he realized he didn’t have an answer for this. "I, uh, I don’t- I don’t know, Mr. Wellick. Thanks?" he stuttered and watched Tyrell smile fondly at him.

"I was teasing you, Elliot, you don’t have to say anything," he stated as he sat up and slid his condom off before tying it into a knot and looking back at him. "Now let’s get you cleaned up."

Elliot watched him get up and walk towards the bathroom, nodding and blinking like an idiot.

"Oh, and by the way," Tyrell’s voice echoed from the bathroom and Elliot propped himself up on his elbows as he walked back inside the room with a wet towel and sat down beside him, cracking a smile once again.

"You can call me Tyrell." he said softly and watched Elliot nod slowly. God, he was precious.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you made it out! ay!


End file.
